


Klaines of Glory

by Joanne_Lupin



Category: Blades of Glory (2007), Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossover, Hate Sex, Ice Skating, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_Lupin/pseuds/Joanne_Lupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like Blades of Glory, but with Klaine smut. Rated M for sexy skating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a little violence in the first chapter, but nothing really descriptive that would warrant a warning.

He was sex on ice. His magnificent curls would fly in the air during his jumps, and his tight leather pants made the girls- and some boys- in the audience swoon. He was the most badass figure skater in the history of the sport. His name was Blaine Anderson.

He was precise. Flawless. He was all technique, and all business. His focus was like a laser. He was in peak physical condition. His movements were more graceful than any other man on the skating circuit could dream of. When he skated, the angels cried. His name was Kurt Hummel.

The two were equally matched. For every win of Blaine's, there was one of Kurt's. They were rivals, always battling for the gold. Then, one day, everything changed.

"A _tie_?" Kurt hissed. "How could there be a _tie_?"

"I- I don't know, Mr. Hummel. It must be a m-mistake, or- or something-"

"It had better be a mistake, Farnsworth, or your ass is _fired_."

"Y-yes, sir. I understand."

From the stands, a rabid fan screamed out, vying for Kurt's attention. "KURRRRT! KURT I LOVE YOOOUUUUU! KURRRRT!"

"Sebastian, I swear to God, if you keep this up I'll increase your restraining order."

"I love youuu!" he whispered weakly before disappearing into the crowd. Kurt ran a hand over his face, sighing wearily, and sunk onto a bench.

A fair distance away from Kurt and his entourage, Blaine sat alone. He didn't need a crew, or a coach, or a manager. He got by on his own. _I was better. And they knew it. How could it be a tie?_

The two gold medalists took their places on the pedestal. The men jockeyed for the crowd's attention, both refusing to be left out of the spotlight. Finally, Kurt pushed a little too hard, and Blaine fell off. With a superior smile, Kurt waved to the crowd, until- WHAM! Blaine smacked into Kurt, knocking both of them to the floor. They began fighting, lost in pure rage. Silence filled the auditorium, broken by Sebastian's cries. "No! Don't hurt Kurt! Don't hurt my loooooveeeeee!"

An official came to stand over the men. He cleared his throat, and they froze, blood streaming from Blaine's face and Kurt's eye beginning to swell.

"Oh, shit…"

-o0o-

"Kurrrrt… Kurrrrt… Kurrrrrrrrrrrrrt!"

Kurt woke with a start. "Sebastian! Get out of here. I'll call the police."

"Kurt, you need to get back into skating."

"I was banned for life, Sebastian. I can't go back."

"Yeah, but I found a loophole." Sebastian pushed a rule book through the window of Kurt's bedroom. "You were banned in singles figure skating. But you can still do pairs. Pairs!"

Kurt grabbed the rule book, staring at the page, then at his stalker. "Sebastian…"

"I know. I'm awesome."

"You are… okay. Now get out of my house."

"I love youuuuuuuu…"

"GoodBYE, Sebastian."

-o0o-

"What the actual fuck?"

"I know. I know. I'm just as opposed to this as you are. But you and I both know that this is the only way."

Blaine glared at Kurt from over the table. "A male-male pairs figure skating team?"

"Yeah."

The leather-clad man surveyed Kurt with curiosity. "Okay, Hummel. We'll try it. But only to get back on the ice."

"Of course," Kurt agreed with a cold smile. He offered his hand, and Blaine took it.

"Okay, Hummel. When does practice start?"

-o0o-

Kurt's coach had demanded that the pair team live together as part of their training. They shared a bedroom and bathroom. In such confined spaces, the men couldn't help but notice their partner's body. Kurt's swaying hips. Blaine's defined abs. It was impossible to ignore these physical details. Tension mounted, day by day, until-

"Anderson! You left your shampoo in here with _my stuff!_ "

"What? You got a problem?"

"Yeah, I do! _With your face!_ "

"Yeah, well _I_ have a problem with _your_ face!"

At this point, Blaine had pushed Kurt, and Kurt had grabbed Blaine's arms, holding them above his head. There was a moment of sheer heat, when the men stared at each other, taking each other in as much as they were trying to intimidate. Kurt was shirtless, as he'd been getting ready to take a shower. Blaine had been working out, and sweat caused his clothes to cling in places that showed off the best of what he had. Neither man knew how one could feel so angry and, at the same time, so aroused. But there was only one way to break this tension…

Neither of them would say they started it. Really, it was a mutual snap decision. But somehow, their lips met, and their hands were traveling, tangling in each other's hair, wandering down each other's backs, gripping each other's asses. They ground their hips together, and the resulting friction made Blaine growl. Before he really took stock of what he was doing, Kurt slipped a hand into Blaine's pants, gripping hard. Blaine slammed Kurt up against the wall, writhing at the other man's touch. He pulled his shirt off, then began working on Kurt's pants. When they were fully naked, Blaine gripped Kurt's hips, mashing them against his, and using the convenient positioning of his hands to finger Kurt's entrance.

"Fuck, Anderson, I know what you're gonna do. Just do it already."

Blaine was shocked for a moment, not having realized that that noise, that language, could come from the all-business Hummel. Then he roughly flipped the man around and lined himself up with Kurt's hole, pushing in slowly and reveling in the man's tightness. He began to thrust, and Kurt's hands reached around to leave scratch marks on his back. He went faster, feeling himself nearing the edge. He came with a moan, thrusting erratically as he fell from his high, then pulled out and twirled Kurt around. He smirked up at his partner for a moment before flicking his tongue just once over the tip of Kurt's dick. Then Kurt was coming, groaning and sinking to the floor.

"No one is to hear about this, Hummel. Understand?"

"Yeah, no. I'm not telling _anyone._ "

"Good," Blaine replied, offering his hand to help his partner up. Kurt winced.

"Shit. What're we gonna tell coach when I can't walk straight?"

Blaine laughed cruelly. "That's not my problem, is it?"

"Fuck you."

"Maybe next time, Hummel."


	2. Chapter 2

Was the flutter in their stomachs purely excitement, purely nerves? Or was there something else there? Sure, it was normal- expected, even- for anxiety to creep into their chests. It was their first competition, and they had a lot riding on it. The world was against them and their unusual pairing. They had something to prove.

The pair entered the rink, taking their positions on the ice. The only one cheering was from Sebastian, who cried out Kurt's name. The man sighed, discouraged. "They hate us, Anderson."

"Just watch- we'll make them love us."

They began their routine as the opening strains of "Rock You Like a Hurricane" (Blaine's choice) blasted over the rink. Their movements were intense, and they stared each other down like they had the other day in the bathroom. And just like that day, they began to feel tension mounting as their bodies gyrated to the music. Blaine pulled Kurt close for a lift and almost moaned with his sexual frustration. Both men could feel their arousals straining against their compression shorts.

Finally, they finished the routing, their breath coming in pants. The crowd was going wild, throwing roses, teddy bears, even bras. But the two bolted out of the rink, pulling off their skates, dodging their coach, and racing to the closest private space- a bathroom.

"What if someone wants to come in?" Kurt asked.

"I got it covered," Blaine replied smoothly, pulling a sign out of a bag he'd grabbed: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS. He posted the sign on the door, then went in. Thankfully, the bathroom was deserted. They began going at each other's clothing, Kurt biting Blaine's lip as Blaine ran his nails down Kurt's chest. Blaine's fingers traced close to Kurt's entrance, but Kurt slammed him into a wall, arching his back and hissing, "No, it's _my_ turn."

Blaine would normally have protested, but the control Kurt had taken turned him on more than he would have thought possible. So he nodded, grinding his hips against Kurt's. At the feeling of Kurt's finger entering him, Blaine growled- a real, animal-like growl that turned into a moan when Kurt added another finger, then a third. He crooked them in just the right way, and Blaine let out a shout of ecstasy.

"Damn, Anderson, you're getting pretty loud…"

Blaine whimpered, needing more. Kurt lined himself up, then entered Blaine, slowly sheathing himself in the other man, who grunted and began to stroke his throbbing cock. Kurt pulled his hand away, working over Blaine's shaft as he started thrusting. Blaine bit his lip, drawing blood, trying not to give Kurt the satisfaction of seeing him so unraveled. Somehow, the man could feel Blaine getting close to the edge, and he froze.

"You won't come until I say so, Anderson."

"But-"

Kurt tittered, letting his tongue swipe over Blaine's earlobe. "You heard me." He thrust again, once, and Blaine groaned loudly, cursing himself. _Get it together, Anderson. You can't let Hummel see you like this._

Kurt was thrusting again, his hands holding Blaine's so that he couldn't touch himself. When Kurt was close, too, he flicked his tongue in Blaine's ear and whispered, "You wanna come, Anderson?"

"Y-yes."

Kurt let the tension mount a moment or two more, then- "Come for me, _bitch._ "

And come Blaine did, splashing over the bathroom wall and nearly _screaming._ No one made Blaine Anderson scream. No one. Except his frustratingly magnificent skating partner.

The feeling of Blaine tightening around him was enough to send Kurt over the edge. He came, thrusting erratically as he rode out his orgasm. He'd never done that before. Never taken control like that…

He liked it. A lot.

They both did.


	3. Chapter 3

Usually, Blaine would have a room of his own to think about this. Along with a house of his own, a car of his own, a practice rink of his own…

A life of his own.

But now, he was confronted by the source of his problems everywhere he went.

He couldn't help but stare. His hips swayed with an impossibly sexy saunter. His eyes always glinted slightly but sharply. His hair was constantly immaculate.

It was enough to drive Blaine crazy.

He'd never felt this way about anyone before. Because it wasn't just those big things. There were smaller things. Things that he liked even more. Like the way Kurt would let down his guard briefly when Project Runway came on, leaping up and shouting at the screen, before remembering himself and sitting calmly. Or the way he held his hand delicately over his mouth when he laughed. Or the way he would fill the cabin with the smell of cookies when he was sad. And whydid Blaine care what made Kurt sad? And why did he wonder why cookies helped? And why, why, why did he want to take away the things that made him sad?

And why was he asking Kurt these things right now, as the warm chocolate chip smell wafted from the oven?

"So… What's with the cookies?"

"Hm?" Kurt asked, his confident façade betrayed by the red that stuck around his eyes.

"Y-you always bake cookies when… when you're sad."

"I'm not sad."

"You've been crying."

"I just watched 'Marley and Me.' Gets me every time."

"Bullshit."

Kurt sighed. "Okay. Whenever I was sad, my mom would make me cookies. Now that she- now that I'm on my own… I'm the one who has to make them."

"I could make them, but I suck at baking."

There was a moment of awkward silence as Kurt gave him a long, questioning stare. Then Blaine blushed, stuttering out, "I mean, if you ever wanted- I mean, I don't want you to feel, you know, like, like you have to be, like, the only cookie baker, or whatever…"

More silence. More blushing on Blaine's part.

"So, um… Why are you sad?"

"Really? Blaine I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck-About-Anyone-But-Myself Anderson is asking me why I'm sad?"

"…Yes?"

Kurt blinked. _What the fuck am I doing?_ he thought.

"Fine. I'll tell you."

"Okay."

"I'm sad because it's the twelfth."

"…Okay?"

"My mom died twenty years ago today."

"Oh…"

Even more silence. And then-

"Why are you holding my hand, Anderson?"

Blaine jumped, realizing that he had, in fact, set his hand over Kurt's. He hadn't realized.

"I'm sorry, I just- I, um, I-"

"No, I… I actually kind of liked it…"

"Oh." He put his hand back over Kurt's. Kurt took a quick breath, blew it out slowly through puckered lips, and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine wrapped his other arm around his partner, his muscles tensing at the unfamiliarity of the action. Then Kurt stood up suddenly.

"What are you _doing,_ Anderson? Is this some new trick you're trying to play? Why are you pretending like you give a fuck?"

The hurt that shined Blaine's eyes was harsher than Kurt had seen in anyone else's- those eyes weren't used to showing anything but hate.

"What? Am I not allowed to give fucks? Have I reached my fuck-giving limit for the month?"

"I… I…"

"Guess what, Kurt- I _do_ give a fuck. I don't know why, but I do. Maybe it's because… because…" He let out a frustrated noise, his hands running through his hair.

"…Kurt?"

" _What?_ "

"You… You called me Kurt. Not Hummel."

"Yeah."

"…Why?"

"Because."

Kurt smiled knowingly, putting his hands on Blaine's shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "Because you think you're in love with me."

"Y-yeah. That."

"You're hopeless, Blaine."

And then they were kissing- a long, slow kiss that was warmer and more caring than anything Blaine had felt in his entire life. He held Kurt close, wanting only to feel his warmth. It lasted longer than either of them could measure. But Blaine finally broke away, whispering against Kurt's neck. "I'm in love with you."

"So I've gathered."

Blaine looked up smiling. "I'm in love with you."

Kurt pressed his forehead to Blaine's. "Me, too."

Blaine began to laugh gleefully, pulling Kurt off his feet and spinning him around before planting a peck on his cheek. "I'm in love with you."

"Where'd this come from?"

"You don't understand, Kurt. I've never had anyone to love before. Or anyone, period."

"Really? No mom? No dad? No brothers or sisters or friends or _anything?_ "

"No. My parents died in a crash a few weeks after I was born. My brother was adopted out a few months after we got to the orphanage. I don't remember any of them."

"Oh, Blaine!" Kurt wrapped his arms around the man, who froze in surprise at the contact at first, but then softened under Kurt's warm touch, returning the hug.

"I'm fine. Really. And now… Now I'm not alone."

"No, you're not."

They kissed again, more desperate this time, but still with that warm feeling. Blaine wanted to do everything at once- kisses on the cheek, the hand, the mouth, the neck; hips grinding, arms embracing; fingers trailing down forbidden paths or twining simply together. He wanted it all.

"I need…"

"What, Blaine?"

"You. I need you."

Blaine had never said that before. Ever. Because he'd never needed anyone before. It was a strange feeling. Like he'd been standing up all day and he'd just put part of his weight on the back of a chair- one of those classroom ones in some garish shade of orange or brown that never failed to be missing part of one foot. Yes, it was terrifying. But there was so much relief, too. And in the silence between his words and Kurt's, the chair seemed to be suspended between falling and standing.

"I need you, too."

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. The chair was standing solidly.

There was more kissing, and heat seared between them- a warmer heat that was not angry, but gentle. They blindly stumbled into the bedroom, falling into the bottom bunk. They pulled off each other's clothes slowly, taking in their moments of closeness. Sometimes, between the kisses, Blaine would whisper, "I'm in love with you," and Kurt would reply, "Me, too."

Blaine sucked a hickey onto Kurt's collarbone, savoring the lingering cookie scent, and ground his hips against his whatever-they-were-now's. Kurt's hand slithered down to Blaine's hard dick, and he began to stroke it tenderly. Blaine shivered, so he tightened his grip, causing Blaine to let out a soft moan. He was putty in Kurt's hands, and, somehow, Blaine was okay with that. He was okay with giving himself to Kurt, to begging for more when he entered him with one finger, then another, then another. He was fine with letting Kurt see behind the emotionless mask he'd put up for years.

Kurt lined himself up with Blaine's entrance and pushed himself in slowly, giving the man time to get used to the intrusion. He drew himself out, then pushed back in, working up to a quick rhythm of thrusts. A particularly loud moan told him he was hitting just the right spot, and he angled himself to hit Blaine's fuckbutton consistently.

Blaine came first, shouting out Kurt's name, and at the feeling of Blaine tightening around him, Kurt came, too. They rode out their highs together, Kurt thrusting erratically before pulling himself out. They curled up together and cuddled; Blaine was the big spoon.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm in love with you."

Kurt turned around and kissed Blaine softly on the mouth.

"I'm in love with you, too."


End file.
